


Christmas Wrapping

by ineffablebadger



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Human, Based on a song, Christmas Fluff, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Rom-Com vibes, Romantic Comedy, They/Them Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:41:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29082540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffablebadger/pseuds/ineffablebadger
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale met last Christmas and have been skirting around each other all year. Will some Christmas magic bring them together in time for the holidays?Human AU based on 'Christmas Wrapping' by the Waitresses.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13
Collections: Good Omens Winter Wonderland Zine, IneffableBadger's Seasonal Fics





	Christmas Wrapping

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally for the Winter Wonderland Zine.

Crowley was exhausted. They usually loved the Christmas season, but after the year they’d had trying to get their latest florists business off the ground they just didn't have the energy to celebrate. _Bah Humbug_. They shook their thoughts from their mind because although they’d never admit it to anyone, Christmas was their favourite holiday. They had a knack for gift-giving and liked to spoil their loved ones. 

They sighed and began tackling wrapping the frankly excessive mound of gifts they’d bought for their nieces and nephews. _To Hell with it_. If they had to be the wealthy, perpetual bachelor uncle they should at least be allowed to spoil the kids at Christmas. Especially if they weren’t going to get to see them on the day because they were in Australia visiting the grandparents.

With Wham! ringing from the radio and snow falling outside, they finally felt a creeping sense of festivity begin to eat away at them. So what if they were alone this year? They knew they could have a great time by themself whatever the day. In fact, that was usually their preferred state of being. _Alcohol_ , they thought. _Alcohol would help_.

Crowley padded barefoot to their lounge and poured themself a measure of bourbon. _To Christmas Cheer_. They raised their glass and knocked it back, pulling out their phone after they collapsed into the chair. As they drank, they idly scrolled through their contact list, not getting very far before they hovered over a familiar name, _Aziraphale._ They began drafting a text, which they deleted and restarted several times. 

The unusual name belonged to the bookshop owner they’d met last Christmas. Crowley had been searching for some picture books for their youngest niece when they’d wandered into A.Z.Fell and Co, which turned out to be an antiquarian and rare book shop. They’d been taken in by Aziraphale's piercing blue eyes and muscular forearms, but fallen for his quick wit and sharp tongue. The angelic visage created by the blond’s curls didn’t fool Crowley in the slightest - Aziraphale gave as good as he got. 

They'd exchanged numbers and promised to contact each other in the New Year once things settled down. Crowley was knocked sideways by how smitten they were with this stranger. With their tall frame, tousled red hair, and sharp cheekbones Crowley wasn't the kind of person to have a meet-cute. Hook-ups were more their scene, but Aziraphale was interesting enough that they wanted more from him than that. 

They’d seen Aziraphale again in the spring, when they'd bumped into each other at Columbia Road Flower Market. Crowley was there for business, Aziraphale for pleasure. They'd fallen back into the same easy, flirtatious banter that had first won Crowley over and left the conversation agreeing they should find a time to get lunch together. 

Weeks passed without so much as a text, and Crowley reluctantly pushed Aziraphale to the back of their mind. Obviously, he was having second thoughts. What would such a stunning, intelligent, witty man want with them anyway? No, Crowley thought, they should probably stick to their lackluster dating app hook-ups.

Then it was summer, and Crowley got fed up of waiting for Aziraphale to make the first move.

<< Fancy a ride out to the beach? >>

A few moments later their phone chimed. 

<< Sorry, I have the most awful sunburn. >>

Crowley sighed and typed out their reply, the light tone hiding their disappointment at the rejection. 

<< Sunburn!? I'm the redhead! >>

Then Halloween came around, and Aziraphale surprised them with an invite to a costume party somewhere out in the countryside. Aziraphale didn't seem like someone who did _spooky_ but Crowley jumped at the chance to see him in a neutral environment after so many months skirting around each other. 

This time, Crowley’s car wouldn't start. Their vintage Bentley that they’d spent many hours and far too many pounds doing up had let them down. They’d left it too late to get a taxi that far, and the _fucking Tube_ was also down. Crowley's nerdy costume was all for nothing. They had planned to go to the party as the Tenth Doctor to impress Aziraphale, who Crowley suspected liked Doctor Who because he'd once mentioned he thought they looked like David Tennant.

<< That's quite alright my dear, I'll see you soon. >> Aziraphale had replied to the news. 

Now it was Christmas and it had been a couple of months since their last text. Crowley felt lucky enough to even have Aziraphale’s number so wanted to avoid pushing things and scaring him away. He had been so damn _understanding_ and _disappointed_ about the Halloween situation but hadn't made contact since. 

Crowley sighed and swiped out of their conversation with Aziraphale, struggling to figure out what they wanted to say to him. Instead, they sent their excuses to a couple of group chats they had with distant acquaintances. They couldn't be bothered with awkward Christmas gatherings and still had a thousand and one errands to do thanks to leaving everything until the last minute. 

As the snow began to settle, Crowley traipsed all over London dropping off cards and presents. They even fought the crowds in Aldi to get the world’s smallest turkey breast and some vegetables so they could cook themself a passable Christmas dinner. After a few video calls to distant relatives, they would be free. At the end of the day, they collapsed into their bed and fell asleep almost instantly.

* * *

Christmas morning was uneventful, Crowley Facetimed their family Down Under who were already most of the way through Christmas Day. They assured their over-excited nieces and nephews that Santa had left presents at Uncle Crowley’s for them when they got back, and smiled as they showed off the wide array of plastic they’d already accumulated. 

The oven was nice and hot, and the turkey was roasting away. Crowley sighed contentedly and lay with their feet resting on their coffee table as he enjoyed a Christmas tipple. As their thoughts drifted, they made plans for cooking the rest of the meal in their head. Potatoes, Stuffing, Pigs in Blankets, Veggies, Grav-. _Shit_. They’d forgotten the gravy.

On inspection, their cupboards were devoid of gravy granules, flour, or anything else they could use to cobble together a passable sauce for their lunch. They refused to eat their dry, sad bit of turkey-for-one without gravy. Crowley was on speaking terms with Mr Ahmad who ran the corner shop and knew he’d be open. Reluctantly, they pulled on their boots and coat and headed outside. The picture-perfect snow was now a discoloured sludge under their feet as they walked to the shop. 

A bell rang when they pushed open the door. 

“Merry Christmas, Crowley!” the shopkeeper called. 

“And to you! I forgot the gravy.”

"That simply won’t do now, will it?”

Crowley grabbed some gravy granules and handed a few coins over to Mr Ahmad. Just as they were about to turn away from the checkout and walk out of the door, they heard a familiar voice call out their name.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale sounded surprised and delighted. 

“Hullo, Aziraphale. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, dear fellow.” _Dear Fellow. What a ridiculous man._ They fought the urge to kiss him right there in the shop.

‘Do you live around here?” Crowley asked.

“Yeah, actually, in a houseshare by the station.”

“ _You wot_?”

“Well, isn’t that something?”

“This whole time, we’ve lived five minutes away from each other?” Crowley said with a chuckle as they started to cotton on to what was happening. Last Christmas they met Aziraphale. They’d been trying to organise a date all year and now here he was, right in front of them, with his charming smile and his own pot of gravy granules to boot. Crowley felt almost like they were in a film, one of those cheesy romantic ones.

“You mean you forgot gravy too?” Aziraphale asked, glancing at Crowley’s bag.

“Afraid so, even though it’s just for me I _refuse_ to serve myself dry turkey.”

“Quite right. I’m alone as well.” Aziraphale shrugged and his words seemed to hang in the air.

Crowley swallowed. They were about done with being too chicken shit to so much as text Aziraphale, whose wide smile and pale blue eyes broke down the rest of their remaining self control. 

“Do you- I mean…” Crowley paused, “do you wanna come over? I’m not much of a chef bu-”

“Yes!” Aziraphale cut them off, “I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose but the company would be nice.”

“S’nothing.” Crowley mumbled. 

Aziraphale paid for his gravy, presumably because he felt too bad to put it back on the shelf, and walked with Crowley the short distance back to their flat. 

"S'been a while, Aziraphale," Crowley began, "I was beginning to worry that you were avoiding me." 

"No! Not at all!" Aziraphale said, scandalised. 

"Truth be told, Crowley, I'm not usually so bold as to exchange numbers with...uh...somebody so handsome. I rather thought you were out of my league." The blond swallowed. "When you didn't contact me, I thought my suspicions had been confirmed and you'd seen the error of your ways."

"That's…" Crowley let out a startled laugh, "Aziraphale that's exactly why I didn't contact you."

"What?" Aziraphale cocked his head in confusion.

"Look at you, you're so witty and handsome and charming. I thought you wanted someone a bit more...proper." 

"Proper?"

"Yeah. More waistcoat and bowtie less...skinny jeans." 

It was Aziraphale's turn to laugh now.

"Crowley, you're like a rockstar. You could have anyone wanted. Why would you want a fussy, soft, old bookseller like me?"

"Aziraphale?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up and kiss me."

Aziraphale came to a stop outside the entrance to Crowley's building and closed the distance between them. He stood on the balls of his feet to plant a soft kiss on Crowley's lips. _Fuck_ . _He's kissing me_. The feeling of Aziraphale's lips against theirs intoxicated Crowley, and they wanted more. Crowley threaded their fingers through the blond's curls and pulled him close, deepening the kiss until Aziraphale overwhelmed all of their senses.

Aziraphale pulled away with a gasp, steadying himself before smiling up at them.

"Better?" Aziraphale asked with a grin.

"Much." Crowley mumbled, pushing open the door to their building.

They spent the rest of the day together and Crowley outdid themself with the roast. Despite the awkwardness of the year, the conversation flowed easily and naturally. As if it were always meant to be this way. Although Aziraphale had other arrangements for Boxing Day, they made concrete plans to see each other again, for real this time. They agreed to go and watch the New Year's Eve fireworks together, and several days later they did just that. 


End file.
